Masquerade
by Tasia
Summary: His voice lulled his victims into a state of repose, his silky words and bewitching gaze bending them to their knees until they lay prostrate beneath him. And his smile. It was soothing and full of consolation that they were spared the sensation of a prick on their necks. EdWin.


A/N: For **buttercupandwestley**. I'm your backup FMA Secret Santa! I hope your holiday was great, and thank you so much for being super patient!

My first EdWin one-shot. I hope you like it :).

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He looked familiar.

Beneath the half-face filigree mask, his pale golden hair and liquid gaze caught her eyes under the luminous wash of the chandeliers. His tailcoat, black and lined with velvet red, pressed against a lean torso that gathered at the slender of his waist as he made his way to her. The attire he wore was no more impressive than the ones worn by the gentlemen across the opulent ballroom, though it could certainly pass as a fashion from two decades ago.

When the man arrived, he gave her a deep, cordial bow before rising up to meet a set of scrutinizing blue eyes that followed his every move. "May I ask why a beautiful lady such as yourself chose to stay in this lonely, dark corner?" His tone was eager, his voice exciting, and these did nothing to temper the mischief of his wolfish grin.

Winry smiled, crossing one arm below her breasts before taking the last sip of the red wine in her glass. "And may I ask why a gentleman such as yourself chose to keep my company? There are ladies out there waiting for a dance."

He drew closer, one step, and then two, crossing into her circle until she could feel heat radiate from his skin. Confidence oozed out in the narrow space between them. "You seem different. Intriguing. Nothing at all like the other women out there."

At this, she rolled her eyes and suppressed the laughter that bubbled in her throat. Winry Rockbell was indeed different. From an early age, the company of books was preferred over the art of baking, and as she grew older she took up to the field and sharpened her skills in swordplay. At thirteen, she had killed her first vampire. Now, ten years later, she was an accomplished vampire huntress with the notoriety of Olivier Armstrong and King Bradley reduced to mere legends under her deadly hands.

Instead of charmed and seduced, his charisma alerted her to treat him with suspicion and dubiety, encouraging her to walk away and return to her task of monitoring the party from uninvited guests. There was the Princess of Xing to worry about after all. But it was when the man smiled, genuinely, in an attempt to win her approval that something struck her. The words of her colleague replayed like a favorite tune:

_Sir Edward Elric wielded his charm like a sword. His voice lulled his victims into a state of repose, his silky words and bewitching gaze bending them to their knees until they lay prostrate beneath him. And his smile. It was soothing and full of consolation that they were spared the sensation of a prick on their necks._

"You're different, too," Winry remarked knowingly. "You're nothing at all like anyone here."

Edward sighed, his mouth twisting at the edges, wryly, as though he'd been caught in a lie. Surreptitiously, her hand slipped into the depth of her gown and clung onto the stem of wild rose tangled in silver crucifix. It would immobilize the vampire for a minute at a time, and if all went according to plan, it would buy her enough time to find Riza and her blessed silver bullets. Where the hell was she?

"How did you know?" he asked.

Winry retreated a few steps back, widening the gap between them. "I've heard many things about you Edward Elric."

"Oh?" he smirked, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "Only good things, I hope."

Her nimble fingers clutched the instrument and dashed out of her pocket, but Edward Elric possessed the speed of lightning. Without much forewarning, his hands had found her arms as if they had been there all along, gripping but not hurting.

"Not tonight, Miss Rockbell," the vampire chided gently. "The Emperor spent too much time and money to celebrate the December solstice. You must respect his effort and cease your hunt for me until the end of it."

Her hand flew up to his face in an attempt to resist, but Edward swatted it as though it was a mere fly hovering over his shoulder, bothersome and insignificant. She hissed, "And let you take the Princess and drain her of her life? I don't think so."

"Come. Let's dance," Edward simply said.

He dragged her across the sea of guests, dwelling in the center where the light of the moon shone through the open-sky dome. The white beam softened his appearance and gave her a glimpse of his youth, all of the vigor of a man in his twenties, his ordinary life robbed at such an early age. Suddenly, the upbeat thrum of her pulse shifted from one of panic to fascination.

Why hadn't he attacked her?

_Sir Edward's father left in pursuit of scientific knowledge when Edward and his younger brother were ages six and five respectively. Their mother cared for them until her death at the hands of a vampire less than one year later. His hunt for her killer turned him into the one creature he abhorred, though many claimed he had since accepted his fate and enjoyed his gift of immortality, feasting on young men and women to sustain himself._

The line of dancers began to scatter with the change of music, the ladies searching for the hands of their gentlemen. Edward proffered his to her, which she reluctantly took following a courteous bow. He pulled her close until their chests touched and, to Winry's surprise, his hand had already clutched the crucifix in her pocket. He tossed it somewhere behind him and blew cool air on his crackling palm before gently sliding his hand around her slim waist. The gesture only hastened her already racing heart.

He mirrored the others around the room and spun her, and Winry allowed him the pleasure by gracefully releasing his hand for a moment before finding it again. The heat of his lips caressing the whorl of her ear, he whispered, "You didn't try to run away."

"Maybe because I want to make sure _you_ don't run away."

He chuckled, "Or maybe you just want to dance with me."

But Winry wouldn't let him have the last laugh. "My sources told me you weren't always so calm and composed _nor _clever with your words. I suppose working with Lord Mustang has done you some good. He taught you well."

Edward narrowed his golden eyes, the lines of amusement around his mouth downturning into a disapproving scowl. For the first time tonight a dash of burgundy flared across his cheeks, matching the wine fountain that stood in the middle of the banquet hall. And Winry felt a slice of regret cutting through her chest. Perhaps she shouldn't have teased him. Clearly, Roy Mustang was a sore spot for the young vampire.

A touch of disdain seeped into his tone when he replied, "Mustang didn't teach me _anything_. He's too busy cavorting around town, finding one woman after another who are stupid enough to fall for his charm." And then he snorted, as if he knew something she didn't. "When he's not doing that, he'd ask around about your colleague, Professor Riza Hawkeye."

Her breath caught at his revelation, but Winry was able to rein in her temper, sculpting a woman of perfect composure. "What does Mustang want with her?"

"Just a bit of information, and maybe a little blood," Edward chuckled. "I told him if he could help me find the Princess, then I would help him find her."

Instinctively, her fingers trailed the layers in her dress, trying to reach for a hidden blade. But what he said next startled her.

"And I wouldn't worry about the Princess if I were you," Edward continued, solemnly. "I won't hurt her. I promise."

She scoffed, "And what makes you think I believe you?"

He twirled her, and reeled her back into him. "It's her skill in alkahestry that I need."

Her head tilted in question. His response was unexpected. "Why?"

A lump seemed to have risen up his throat, and a few seconds passed before he was able to answer through the slight tremble of his lips, "Because there's nothing I'd like more than to become human again."

_Alphonse is Sir Edward's only known relative. As the brother of a vampire, he faces much scrutiny after Sir Edward's turning and has devoted most of his time to finding a cure that would reunite them under the same sun, fulfilling their late mother's wish of looking after each other. Seventy years later, he has yet to succeed._

They didn't quite follow the sinuous course of the other couples but strayed to the side and kept to a small circle in the shadows. Silence fell through them as easily as rain on a stormy day, and like two lovers who had known one another in the space of a lifetime, Winry need not voice her thoughts to understand the depth of his longing. Alphonse Elric was reaching the end of his good years, and this could be their last chance to spend time together without the restraints of night and day.

"But you'll die," Winry murmured.

He laughed, "Death makes everything a little more worthwhile, Miss Rockbell. Just like this dance."

To the young huntress, her impression of the creatures she chased shifted from a mere occupation to something of a conundrum. Her grandmother had tutted and claimed that she trusts too easily, though Winry would argue that this was untrue. She was simply generous with her compassion, and compassion was the only good thing she had in an unforgiving line of work. Trusting a vampire, however...

Her contemplation shattered with the series of gasps coming from behind her. The ringing of a gunshot followed. Facing the commotion, she saw Riza running towards her. The woman held a flintlock pistol in her grip, tracking a dark-haired man who was weaving through the cluster of dancers and mingling guests. Roy Mustang. He carried the young Princess in his arms, the girl fast asleep, hustling past Winry and shouting instructions to Edward.

"Get out now! I've got her!" Mustang commanded to the vampire as he bounded for the balcony.

"Winry!" Riza called out from the distance, stray locks falling over a pair of fretful hazel eyes. Her gown was torn at the side, revealing her long legs, a pouch of bullets strapped to one. "He's got the Princess! Stop him!"

"Time to go," Edward sighed beside her. Swiftly, he turned on his heels, but not before dropping his head and pressing a hurried kiss onto her hand. His playful-set eyes returned briefly when he looked up at her, as if telling her he desired much more than this fleeting encounter. "Happy solstice. And thank you." And he leaped after Mustang, bolting for the open window and blending into the starless night.

All Winry could do was watch everything play out before her, a spectator rather than a hunter for once in her life. The beat that pounded below her ears was so loud it dampened the cacophony of stomping boots and cries of surprise.

"Why didn't you stop him?" Riza barked when she arrived at her side. She was breathless, heaving for air with her palms on her knees. Roy Mustang had given her the chase of her life.

_While many choose to turn their victims, Sir Edward Elric had only granted death. His apathy for a second chance as well as the cruelty of his decision have made him one of the most feared vampires in existence. _

"Two days," Winry decided. And truly, who was she to deny his wish to become what he was before? Turning to Riza, she lifted two fingers and strengthened her resolve. "Two days. Then we will go after them."

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A/N: Thank you for reading! :)


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